


flux and flow.

by orphxus (impxria)



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: F/M, M/M, im very sad ok, oh god im so nervous about sharing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impxria/pseuds/orphxus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">boy wonder,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">you were promised a life of isolation.</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">but you were never alone,</span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">not even in death’s hands.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	flux and flow.

**Author's Note:**

> ** spoilers for episode 11.  
> [ { please listen. }](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0k7OFU5hZA&index=5&list=PL24vjtBFjR0aVwYVJ79PtdEBd4MgYC93B)  
> 

death doesn't discriminate

between the sinners and the saints.

it takes and it takes and it takes

and we keep living anyway.

* * *

“What if you never come back?”

Whispered words break the silence in the dead of night. Your forehead rests against his, worried eyes taking in the sight of moonlit features.

Hauntingly beautiful.

You’ve always found Miyoshi to be beautiful-- in the moments where the faint, sly curve of the lips forms, in the moments where he looks terribly worn from long missions.

Tonight, it is different.

The sight of him doesn’t fill your heart with adoration; it doesn’t leave you with the contemplation of how lucky you are. Blood runs cold when you see those brown eyes staring back with no hint of warmth, no hint of sorrow-- nothing. Your lips part and the wish to tell him to forget what you’ve said comes, but your mouth shuts when his hand rests on yours.

No hesitation. His words do not betray his emotions.

“Then forget me.”

**.     .     .**

Colonel Yuuki enters the room without warning and the quiet settles in. The spies’ cards do not leave their hands; all eyes go to the superior. And even through all the training they’ve endured-- with everything they’ve learned about reading people, looking at their eyes, their lips, their mannerisms-- even the smallest things, no one is able to read him yet.

But everyone knows that look, even if it’s hidden under layers of apathy.

Grief. Defeat.

Everyone in the agency has worn it once before.

That look of sorrow when you’ve lost someone.

He looks at all his agents-- the people he’s mentored, the ones he’s learned to care for more than he intended. He knows they understand-- any other person would only see a stoic man, but they do not. So he leaves without a word.

Alcohol pours and pours. Glasses clink against the table.

No one speaks after that.

Miyoshi is dead.

**.     .     .**

To live as a spy is to forge and cut bonds. Hardly do they ever mean anything, but this one--

This one meant more than you will ever be able to handle.

The next day, you visit the cemetery. You don’t know how long you stand there. Time passes and passes and the blank facade hangs on, but beneath it all, you break. 

You break and you break and you break because losing him is not enough.

Because mourning is not an option. Because forgetting is what needs to be done.

It rains, but you don’t move. The droplets of water no longer hit as a shadow looms over you; you’ve learned whose footsteps those are by now.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Amari’s voice is barely registered as he holds the umbrella, shielding you from the harsh weather. He looks tired, looks exhausted. And he is, but he can’t imagine what you feel right now. The rain hides your tears well, he thinks, fingers itching to reach for a handkerchief. But he remains at your side, waiting as long as time takes for a broken heart to heal. 

You know you shouldn’t be here. There is no reason to be out here-- a lone wanderer staring at tombstones for hours-- what will people think of that?

You let out a quiet laugh of resignation that’s drowned out by the rain.

“He’s not even here. Not even in his homeland. His tombstone doesn’t even have his name.”

Amari does not respond.

And soon enough, the other spies stand with you.

It rains harder.

**.     .     .**

Everyone sleeps in the same room. It doesn’t feel the same when someone is missing-- it feels odd, feels strange, feels empty when even one person is on a mission.

They all realize that this feeling is one that will last forever. But life goes on and so do they, no matter how difficult it may be. No matter how well adapted they are, there is nothing that hits them this hard; there’s nothing that hurts them this much even when they’ve learned to understand that any one of them could die.

Jitsui and Hatano do not stay up like they always do; Jitsui places his book aside because all the words blur together; Hatano doesn’t bother talking. Fukumoto and Odagiri act more distant than usual, lost in their thoughts. Tazaki grasps the cards hard enough that he almost bends them-- he stares down in surprise before a grim expression visits.

And the ones who always manage to brighten the room-- Amari and Kaminaga, keep to themselves.

Silent tears run down your cheeks. The bed beside you is empty.

Everyone dreams of Miyoshi that night.

They wake up missing him.

**.     .     .**

forget him forget him forget him _forget him_ \--

Healing does not come easily. The pain comes in waves; a gnawing feeling that creeps up your spine, and then all at once.

“About Miyoshi--” Kaminaga pauses at the flicker of grief that decorates your visage; he doesn’t know how to read your expression when your brows raise, an alarmingly genuine look of intrigue greeting him. 

He should understand. He should know that it’s all a lie because that’s what you do. You put on another mask. You lie. You throw it away.

And you keep marching onward.

But you hate it. You hate that this is all too real-- that you’ve actually lost one of your own. You hate that you have to forget the one who gave you so many memories. You hate that you have to throw them away.

You have to throw him away.

Somewhere, Miyoshi rests. Somewhere, there’s a man who will never be known for what he did. And he’s going to stop existing because he never really did in the first place-- he was another nobody. 

But he meant the world to you.

And to treat it like this, to act like the one who gave teasing smiles and subtle glances of affection and rid of it all-- it makes you feel sick. And it makes everything feel so horribly wrong.

But you are a spy first and foremost; your life ends in isolation.

This is what you’ve learned in all your years.

You see Kaminaga’s shocked expression for only a second before it turns to pain-- and then nothing.

“Who?”

The word weighs heavily on your tongue but you manage to choke it out, erasing every hint of sadness and every part of you that loved him.

Because Miyoshi doesn’t exist anymore.

\--forgotten.


End file.
